Keep Walking
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Some days, she wonders if it wouldn't have been better if Mom had kept walking when she met her dad. Not being born would have been worth the pain it would have saved. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Keep Walking  
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**A Word**: I don't know. Got a need to write AU about these characters after reading a bunch of fic and watching the new episodes. Not sure where this is headed quite yet though. Please bear with me.

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><p>.<p>

Sophia crawls out of the backyard through a hole left by a fence post that's crooked on its nail. The aged wood falls back into place when she wriggles past it, and she has to really suck her gut in to make it through. The splintered edges dig into her and threaten to rip her shirt up. She's going to have to sneak the hammer out of the garage again and try to get the second slat rigged up the same way soon if she wants to keep using her escape route.

Guilt dogs her feet as she walks down the alley to the street that can't be seen from any window in her home. Her escape route is small and meant just for her. There's no way Mom could ever follow her through it. It doesn't help that Sophia knows Mom saw her go out the hole more than once before, and always tells her what a smart girl she is when she comes home afterwards. Not when her lip is split open again or a new set of bruises peppers her skin. Some knew hurt to hide under layers of clothing and a sad smile that get's more and more faded.

She drags her feet through the rocks and dirt as she walks to the empty street and looks around. Wondering what she's going to do until it gets dark enough for it to be safe to go home. It's poker night and he'll be gone once the sun starts to sink. Not coming home until late tomorrow. The longest time they can expect to be safe from him anymore since he lost his job.

The garage down the street is open and Sophia can make out Dale's form walking around in it. He's probably working on something with his old camper. The old man is always telling stories about getting it fixed up so he can travel like he used to when his wife was alive, and he's always happy to let Sophia hold onto things while he tells those stories. He'll pull out a juice box for her and sneak out a bag of hard candies from under the watchful eyes of his nieces, Andrea and Amy, to share with her. If it gets late enough he'll even insist she stay for dinner.

Sophia scowls and deliberately turns away from Dale's home.

She'd made a mistake. She'd gone to Dale too much, said a few too many things, and now Mom is paying for it. Dale's nice, but he doesn't know anything for all that he likes to say he does. He'd gone to Mom when Sophia was out playing with Carl and Duane, and then he'd done something really stupid.

He'd waited around for her dad to come home from work and confront him.

Sophia doesn't know what they said. All she knows is that when she came home there were cop cars there and Carl's dad was trying to make Mom sign some papers. Her lips had bled as she smiled and gently refused. Not stopping to cry or shake until they were all gone and Dale had given up trying to get either of them to answer the door again.

It'd taken three days for him to get out of jail, and Sophia still isn't sure what was worse. The wait as they both knew what was going to happen, or the actual night her dad had come home with an awful smile and a clenched fist.

He lost his job after that and Sophia knows it wasn't the stupid reason he'd told them about when he came home from it. She knows because Andrea had been hanging around, and Sophia had heard just enough to figure things out herself before Mom closed the door on the woman's face.

So, no, Sophia can't go to Dale anymore. Him and Andrea have made things so much worse and Sophia won't add onto it anymore.

She can't go to her friend's homes either. Duane's gone for a week with his family, out seeing his grandparents. She can't go to Carl's either. She's spent too much time there lately and Lori's starting to give her the same kind of looks that Dale and Andrea did towards the end. Sophia won't make this worse on her Mom, she won't, so she passes the street that'll take her to Carl's.

The vet place is dark when she passes it so she can't stop in to see how any of the Greene's are doing, and she doesn't see Glenn when she peers into the busy pizza place next to it. The church on the corner is quiet too because the church group is doing some kind of summer camp thing that Sophia hadn't asked to go on no matter how often T-Dog had pressed her to ask her parents.

She never would've been allowed to go so she'd always thrown out the fliers before going home.

Sophia keeps walking and cuts through a couple of alleys before walking across a long pad of concrete that used to be something. She doesn't know what it used to be but it's been left alone so long that grass and weeds have nearly reclaimed the concrete. She picks a bunch of purple clover flowers and a few delicate yellow buttercups before she climbs over an old wooden fence and walks into the trailer park she's always been told to stay away from.

She stops by Eliza's home first but the lights are out and, when she gets on her knees to look, her doll has been carefully placed under the stairs. Out of the way of any rain but close enough she can pick it up. Sophia leaves the buttercups behind when she crawls back out from the stairs.

The rip in the arm has been expertly patched and the dress is new. There's hardly any trace of blood at all on the fabric of the doll and Sophia smiles. She wonders what Eliza had to tell her mom so the woman wouldn't ask any questions.

Sophia keeps walking. The neighborhood is larger than hers because the trailers are smaller, but it still takes her very little time to reach the last person she can go to. She looks at the motorcycle parked in front of the trailer but its not the one that means she should steer clear, and she walks right up to the front door to knock.

Daryl looks irritated when he opens the door, but he always looks that way. She knows he doesn't mean anything by it when he lets her in without a word. She smells the pizza before the door shuts and wonders if she just missed Glenn. He tells her there's other delivery people but so far Sophia hasn't seen anyone else out doing it.

"Sit," Daryl says as he pulls out a stack of paper plates that she's pretty sure he only keeps for her.

The couch in front of Daryl's table is clear but Sophia sits on the floor anyway. It's too far to reach the table from the couch for her and she likes to face Daryl when they eat. It's not really a table though. Just a long board on some cinder blocks, but Sophia likes it that way. It's not bright and shiny like the table at home. The one her dad is so proud of that he makes Mom clean for an hour every day. Making sure she gets every speck of dust off of it and that not even a scratch appears on it.

Sophia holds her breath when she has to walk past it, and she knows it worries Lori when she does the same at Carl's house but she can't help it. She just remembers her Mom's face the one time she'd accidentally scratched one of the legs on that table. The way she'd gone deathly pale and had to hold herself up on the wall. How they'd broken the rules and left the house that day. Walking on foot to every store they could reach before the work day was done. Buying up every brown marker they could find and bringing them home until they found one that made the scratch disappear. The tears they'd both cried late that night when he didn't notice a single thing.

A plate of greasy peperoni pizza and a can of grape soda gets banged on the scratched up table before Daryl drops his overloaded plate and beer can across from her. Daryl's table is nothing like the one at home and Sophia doesn't feel any panic at all when she accidentally gets a drop of soda on it as they eat. Daryl doesn't care. Doesn't even seem to notice as he eats four slices in the time it takes Sophia to take her first slice apart.

"What're them for?" Daryl eventually asks as he's chewing on the crust that Sophia picks off from her pizza and sets aside. His eyes are fixed warily on the bunch of purple flowers she dropped next to her plate.

"The ends taste like honey," Sophia says and picks up the stack of peperoni she pulled off to put on Daryl's plate. He doesn't give her a sharp look for the waste or try to gently convince her to eat the things she doesn't like. Simply plucks it up and eats it himself.

"Yeah," Daryl says unsurprised like Duane and Carl had been when she'd proved that to them, because he already knows. Daryl knows a lot of things. "'s not enough for even a mouthful though."

Sophia shrugs and keeps picking her pizza apart. The cheese comes off in patches and she piles it to the left as she tears the thinner bread up into small pieces to the right. She eats the sauce covered bread first before going for the stringy cheese she set aside for last. She likes it better this way even though she's been told it's weird, and Daryl's the only one who'll let her eat it that way. She doesn't dare try at home, Andrea had always scolded her a bit for it, and Duane and Carl's parents would pull out forks before letting her try it at their homes.

"Be better off gettin' those packets a honey," Daryl continues. His accent drawled and loose in the way that her dad hates. The way that he's threatened to beat out of Mom and her the few times they said things in a way he didn't like. "Less work too."

"I don't like how it tastes," Sophia disagrees without fear because Daryl gets pissed if he thinks she's lying or hiding to make him happy. "These taste better."

"Just haven't tried the right kind," Daryl says with a grunt as he gets up and goes back to the kitchen for more pizza. Sophia hears a cupboard slamming and when he comes back he's got a bottle in hand.

It's honey, darker than what she's used to seeing and the peeling label has a picture of the purple flowers on it. Daryl nudges it closer to her but he's not looking at her when she looks up.

"They get it from bees that feed on clover. Makes the honey taste different," Daryl says and then glances over at her when he folds a slice of pizza in half to eat it. "Go on."

Daryl didn't bring any spoons so Sophia just squirts a puddle onto her plate. Keeping it far from the messy spots where the bread and cheese used to be. It flows out slow like syrup and even smells darker to her. Sophia studies it closely for a bit in doubt before dragging a finger through the puddle.

It shouldn't surprise her but Daryl's right. This honey is different from the golden kind Mom keeps in the kitchen for her dad. The kind that tastes like the cheap kind of rock candy some of the old women like to pass out at Halloween. This isn't as sweet and it tastes a lot like the ends of the flowers do.

"Told ya," Daryl says with a smug grin even though Sophia hasn't said anything. Sophia sticks her tongue out at him before ducking her head down to lick the honey up. It's thick and sticky just like syrup and she can already feel it drying uncomfortably on her finger even after sticking it in her mouth.

"You want more, kid?" Daryl eventually asks and he's not asking about any one thing in particular. He means all of it when he asks, and Sophia's hungry enough for more pizza but she shakes her head.

She doesn't come see Daryl too much because he starts getting cranky when she does, and she doesn't want to make herself too much of an annoyance. He might not let her in if she does that, and out of all the people Sophia can go to when she escapes Daryl is the one who understands best. The one she's never had to talk to or lie to. The one who _understands_ in a way that the others haven't and never will.

There's no more pizza anyway, she sees that when he throws the paper plates into the box and folds the whole thing in half like it's something that's easy. Sophia watches as he bends down to look out one of the windows. Eyes squinting like they do when he's thinking about something. The light coming through them isn't as bright as it was before and she knows that means the sun's going down. By the time she gets back home it'll be all the way down. It's time for her to leave.

"Poker night, right?" Daryl asks when she stands up, and doesn't even wait for her to nod before he goes to the front door. He picks up a box and jerks his head for her to follow him out. "I'll drop you off then. No reason to be walkin' around alone now."

"Where's your truck?" Sophia asks as he locks up behind her. It's not there and it was kind of stupid of her to go knocking before seeing it there.

"Broke," Daryl says when he turns around one hand in the box. He comes out with a jean jacket that he drops right on her head.

Sophia growls as she bats the heavy thing off her head. It's a little ragged on the edges but small enough to fit her, and when she looks up Daryl's holding something else small enough to fit her. A motorcycle helmet.

"Really?" Sophia asks as she looks at it, and when she looks up at Daryl he looks embarrassed. Embarrassed even as his lips twitch up into that weird looking smile he does when he thinks no one else is looking.

"Just shut up and put it on."

The jacket is bigger than she is and he probably got it at a garage sale or something, but the helmet is brand new when she pulls it on. She can feel that and smell it when reaches down to adjust the chin strap for her. He knocks the visor down and gives her his more normal smirk before picking her up and swinging her over the motorcycle.

"Hold on to my belt," he instructs as he swings on in front of her. He waits until she gets both hands around the thick leather to start the motorcycle and Sophia giggles helplessly as it roars to life loud enough that his neighbors have to hate him.

They won't say anything to him though. Daryl's got a mean face that makes people want to run, and that's only funny because Sophia knows Daryl. She knows that he a lot like the old mutt that wanders around in Duane's neighborhood. Rough and growly to keep the mean kids from picking on it, but nice to those who sneak scraps out to feed it. He won't let anyone put a collar on him, but if you treat him nice enough he'll sit right next to them and tolerate a little petting.

Daryl's mean like that, and it's a meaness she understands. Not like her dad's meaness.

The motorcycle rumbles under her as Daryl drives slowly through the winding street. He guns it a little when they're out of the trailer park and Sophia holds on tighter with a gasp as she feels the wind snatch at her. She can feel a little shaking from Daryl, but the motorcycle and the wind are too loud for her to be sure he is laughing at her.

It doesn't matter anyway. Sophia's amazed as Daryl turns right instead of left. Taking the roundabout route to her home. It's not like riding in a car at all. There's no windows and metal cutting her off from the world as Daryl starts picking up speed. Even the bumps and holes in the road are a little different and she laughs when Daryl veers a few times -totally on purpose- to hit a few of the larger bumps that make the bike go airborn for a bit.

It doesn't seem like any time's passed at all before Daryl turns into the familiar alley and coasts up to her fence. He stops right by the spot she uses to escape without having to ask.

Sophia wants to drive around town a couple of times but she knows that won't happen. Even if it weren't too late she wouldn't be able to ask. People would notice and people would talk and then Mom would really be in for it for letting her get away like she has been. She slides off the bike and takes the helmet and jacket off without prompting. She can't keep them or they'll be found. "Thank you."

Daryl takes them and snorts. He looks irritated again as he looks away from her. "Ain't doing shit kid. Go on and find your mama now."

He wants to leave, every line of his body leans away from her and he won't look at her again. Daryl waits for her to shove her way in through the fence to take off though. The bike roars as it speeds off and Sophia feels the guilt come back as she trudges up to the house.

There's a light on in the kitchen and when she walks in Mom is at the sink doing dishes. There's a plate on the table but no food out just yet.

"Was that Daryl?" She asks, her voice quiet as she rinses off a glass. She doesn't turn around and Sophia feels the guilt grow because she knows why Mom won't turn around.

"Yes, he didn't want me walking in the dark," Sophia says and her hands clench on nothing as she realizes she left her doll back in his trailer. Sitting up on his table next to the flowers she didn't eat after all.

"He's a good man," Mom says and there's a faint shake in her voice. One that Sophia knows too well. "Did he feed you enough? I can grill you a cheese sandwich and maybe some tomato-"

Sophia swallows hard and crosses the kitchen to pull at the long end of the sweater Mom's wearing. She's not hungry anymore and she might not be hungry in the morning when she sees Mom's face.

The left side is angry and puffed up with a few hints of shadow where she hasn't been able to wash away the blood just yet. The skin around her eye is the worst. It's swollen so much that Sophia can only see the barest hint of glimmer from the eye under it all. It's going to be hideous in the morning, and will take weeks to go away.

"Mom?" Sophia's afraid. As afraid as she had been the day she scratched the table and it shows.

"Oh honey," Mom drops to the ground and pulls her into a tight hug. The water on her hands soaks into Sophia's shirt but she doesn't care as she closes her eyes hard on the tears that are coming. They burn as they squeeze out anyway, but not as much as the break in Mom's voice as she begins to whisper. "It's ok. It's all going to be alright."

It's a lie and they both know it. He's never hit Mom on the face before. Never done anything that would show like this, because then people'd ask questions and he didn't want that. It's an unspoken rule of sorts and it scares Sophia so bad that he's breaking it now. If he's breaking that rule then that means he's going to be breaking a lot of other rules, and Sophia isn't so sure anymore that things will ever get better.

No, she knows they're going to get a lot worse now, and no one is going to be able to stop it.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Keep Walking  
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**A Word**: Ibid.

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Sophia sleeps curled up on her side in a tiny little ball that is frighteningly still when Carol checks on her from the hallway. She deftly avoids the toys scattered out on the floor -something she does before bed each night because her room is spotless during the day- to carefully pull the sheets away from the girl.

She's upside down again. Feet tucked under the pillow and head turned towards the door. She's small to not draw attention to herself, and angled so that she can run if she needs to.

Realizing that this is something Sophia feels necessary is far more painful than the dull fire in her face and the sharp ache in her ribs. Hurts more than any other time Ed's beat her from one side of the house all the way to the other. It's the shame that hurts the most. The shame that her daughter has to see this, has to live with this fear and uncertainty.

When Sophia grew up enough to start learning how to cower, to fall back behind Ed's sight and do exactly what she was told to do Carol had drawn a silent mental line in her mind.

Carol's drawn so many lines though that she's afraid to look back now when she walks. Afraid to see the markers of boundaries she has set and then failed to stick to. The line she drew when he first hit her. Then the second and third time. The first bone he broke. The first lie she told to a doctor who didn't believe her. The first police officer she turned away even as she hid her wounds under a bath robe. So many lines drawn and passed without a second of hesitation from Ed.

This though. This is one line she's drawn and kept strong for ten years.

Ed will not lay one single finger on Sophia. Not in anger or anything else that is in his sick mind. Carol will not let him cross this line. Ever.

She brushes loose blonde hair away from her child's face and pulls the sheet back over her. Hiding her from the world even though tonight is safe for them both. Carol avoids the noisy toys and silently shuts the door. There's not need to keep it open tonight in case Ed wants to make sure Sophia is following his strict bedtime schedule. He won't be home until afternoon tomorrow.

Coming in trailing a hangover and cheap perfume that Carol learned to stop resenting long before Sophia had been born.

Carol goes into the bathroom. Not turning the light on until the door is shut out of habit, and when she does turn it on she avoids the mirror. She doesn't need to see the bruising anymore today. She'd seen enough of it cleaning it up as best she could when Ed took off, and still it had taken her seeing it in Sophia's scared eyes to really see how horrible it was this time.

He shower is short, and only takes a few minutes because she takes the time to feel out the ribs on her left side under the scalding hot heat of the water. Fingers testing the areas that hurt the worst until she sighs in relief as all she finds are bruises. No broken ribs this time.

This time.

Carol wonders when exactly her life turned into her thinking those words are the very best she can hope for in any situation. She's pretty sure she used to hope things could still get better when Sophia was born. That Ed would see his new little girl as someone he should strive to be better for. He'd talked about it often enough that Carol had thought it possible at least.

She dries off and steels herself to look into the mirror. She looks and keeps her gaze critical as she ignores the rest of her body to focus on her face. The shower hasn't done wonders for it. The heat of the water drawing the blood up faster under her skin and not doing one thing to calm the swelling. It makes it look worse than it actually is, and that's a good thing.

Seeing his work often mollifies Ed. Lulls him into a period of gloating that gives her a chance to heal. For that alone, Carol has learned to look as miserable as possible. She slips back into her clothes and goes back down to the kitchen. There's still food left to eat and Sophia has been taken care of already.

It used to shame her when her little girl would come home and tell her she'd already eaten. That someone else has taken care of her in a way that Carol knows Ed won't allow under his roof. The fact that they didn't know they were feeding her better than she usually got fed in her own house hadn't helped a lot, but Carol has gotten used to it. Has grown to feel grateful that Sophia can get what she needs from so many people.

Carol Opens the fridge and pulls out the single slice of cheese that's been left out of the package. There's a single dab of butter next to it on a plate that she takes too, and Carol hesitates as her hand hovers over the milk jug. There's still half a cup left in it before the level of milk reaches the line that's been marked on it. The date scrawled next to it in Ed's hand so he can keep track of what's being eaten.

She leaves it for the morning. They were giving away free sample boxes of cereal at the store the last time she went grocery shopping, and she'd managed to get them without Ed seeing. Sophia can have cereal in the morning for breakfast with the milk.

The packaged ham is a different matter and Carol pulls it out to bring to the stove where the light is brighter. She peels the thing open and carefully inspects it. It's deli sliced and that is always easier to fudge with the count than the cheap ham that Ed has decided he's no longer eating. Working carefully, she's able to get a few thin slices by tearing at the edges and gathering up the shredded meat from where Ed inevitably got impatient. Just enough to get a taste of it when she makes her dinner for the night. Carol fluffs out the meat to look like there's more there before placing it back in the fridge.

The bread is the iffy part. It always is though. She pulls out the cheap loaf that Ed buys because it's past its sell by date and carefully counts the slices before comparing the number to the list Ed keeps besides the breadbox. He's allotted four slices to be used for today, but her count comes up three short. Ed's been eating more lately without his job to keep him busy. She's going to have to make do with just one slice then. Carol looks through the bread and chooses the one that looks to be in the worst shape.

She's become pretty good at spotting the pieces that are going to mold just before they do. It's always better to eat it before it reaches that stage because Ed won't let her waste it even if it goes bad.

The butter goes further with just the one slice folded in half anyway.

Her stomach clenches a little as the scent of food drifts in the air as she carefully fries the food. She's been getting even less to eat at breakfast than usual with Ed sticking around instead of heading out to work. She can't sit there and divide up his leftovers with Sophia like they're used to when he's right there watching them both like a hawk. Taking pleasure in stealing the food right off of her plate while his is still full. It takes too much work to slide bites onto Sophia's plate when he's not looking for her to try and risk anything more.

The bread is barely brown before she slides the sandwich out of the plate and onto a plate. She doesn't sit down before devouring it, and takes some satisfaction in the tiny rebellion that doesn't mean anything when no one sees it. It's not much and she's glad that Sophia was fed. Glad that Carol didn't have to dig into the pantry for soup. Ed doesn't keep as close of an eye on the pantry, but sooner or later he would have found out the can was missing.

She's still hungry as she cleans the few dishes she dirtied, but it's more manageable now. The cleaning is repetitive and almost soothing. It distracts her from the hunger and the pain. Keeps her mind from drifting to her daughter's new sleeping arrangement.

When she's done, Carol turns out the lights and moves through the house in the dark. She's used to the lack of light and moves soundlessly to the living room. The couch is comfortable as she lays down on it. Far more comfortable than the bed Ed makes her sleep in when he's around. It's been years since Carol was able to actually sleep in that bed, and the nights are now torture for her.

Hours spent lying awake and listening to him breathe as tiredness chases her around, but her body refusing to give in. Knowing exactly what kind of wake up call she will get if she fails to be up before him with breakfast ready and the perfect temperature. Even on the nights that he's gone she still can't get past that ingrained fear enough to actually sleep in the room. It's an instinctive reaction that's hurting her much more than normal now that she can't sneak in a few naps during the day.

Carol's so tired and hungry that she doesn't get much time to wonder over it when she lays down. She has just enough time to feel grateful for the coolness of the night and the plushness of the cushions before she's out.

**.**

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	3. Chapter 3

**Keep Walking  
><strong>

**A Word**: Ibid.

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Daryl doesn't even remember when he first started seeing the little girl hanging around. There's a mess of dirty and rude as fuck kids running around the trailers all damn day long and the girl blends in with them all. Her knees are always skinned and her blonde hair could belong to half a dozen of the single working mothers he only sees going out in the morning and dragging their feet back in the evening. It's not until summer starts and the mob of kids grows larger that he notices the gangly, freckled faced thing watching him more and more.

He'd ignored her at first. Kids are brats and fuck if Daryl wants to deal with any of the snot nosed things. Too fucking bad she'd ignored his ignoring and decided to creep up closer when he started working on his truck in his spare time before giving it up completely for dead.

She walked on silent little mouse feet that kind of creeped Daryl out. She'd get pretty damn close before he noticed enough to send her off with a glare and scowled order to get. She scampered away as quick as any mouse too, but she always came back. Creeping and sneaking until even his most menacing growl didn't make her do more than bat a curiously friendly eye at him.

The day she stayed stubbornly still as he cussed her out good and threatened to tan her hide for her as he loomed over the girl had been the most irritating day of the year for him yet. He knows how to be intimidating, he knows how to scare the shit out of people. He's learned from the best, but that girl had just looked up at him with a stubborn jut of her lips and said, "My name's Sophia."

And damned if Daryl wasn't more than a little impressed with the size of the girl's balls for standing there. It was a stupid ass mistake to give the girl a coke from his fridge in reward for it though. Once she'd taken it he was damned to never get rid of her.

She wasn't around all the time, but when she was around she was always pushing. Herself mostly but Daryl too. Though he's pretty sure she doesn't realize she's pushing him most of the time. Sophia unfolds from a quiet, tentative mouse into a quiet, calculating rat. Taking more and more liberty each time Daryl doesn't say no or tell her off. Sometimes she'll take it even when he does tell her off now.

Everything she does is slow though. Careful like she's testing out something she's never tried before and isn't sure it'll hold up when she puts weight on it. Her eyes are wide to take in everything around her all at once, and she hears even the smallest of sounds. She doesn't flinch though. Not even when she really should. And that right there is something that Daryl is far to fucking familiar with.

It tells a story that's loud and clear to people who've lived it before, and maybe that's why she kept on edging closer to him when he tried to chase her away. She knows the story just as well as he does, and she can tell just by watching that he knows it by heart.

Daryl scoops up the empty box from the ground before unlocking his front door. It's fully dark now so he hits the lights as he comes in. The tiny helmet and jacket go back into the box and he puts it beside the couch. On the floor where it won't be seen. He stuffs a pile of newspaper and old bills in it too to disguise it.

Merle is still out of state doing fuck knows what, but Daryl's pretty sure he'll be back in a few more weeks. Swinging through to shoot the shit after he gets his ass fired from another job Ma pulled for him. Getting right back into the swing of the stupid shit she's been trying hard to break him free of for years now.

Too little, too late. Daryl knows that if she'd just gotten out of prison five years earlier it would've worked, but there'd still been people with grudges to grind when her parole hearings came up. Enough people who liked Pa to go in and spin enough lies to keep her in for the full term of her manslaughter charges. With no care at all for what kind of shit her two sons were in during it.

Daryl hides the jacket and helmet he had almost talked himself into returning a dozen times before today. Something he bought despite telling himself he was being an idiot and that he doesn't want to be involved in this shit. He hides it because he doesn't want to hear the shit Merle'll say about it. Even though he thinks it might be worth it for the broad grin the kid wore when she figured out it was for her. Maybe for a half hour at least.

A flash of purple gets his eyes to the table. A shitty thing he put together out of scraps he found when he first moved in to town and lived out of cheap hotel for a month. The kid's flowers are still clumped there and her rag doll is slumped down next to them. Daryl picks the thing up and looks at it. He's never seen her without the damn thing, but it looks a little cleaner than last time she was around. There's a row of neat stitches along the shoulder where he remembers the arm hanging loose last he saw it. It's stained in a few places like most things kids love enough are.

Daryl turns and shoves it under the bills in the box. The kid'll be back for it sometime tomorrow. If he didn't know better he'd say she might've done it on purpose for an excuse to come back, but that kid don't need excuses anymore. The thought makes him want to grin a bit before he reminds himself that he's not involved in this. That he doesn't _want_ to be involved.

"Fuck this shit," Daryl mutters to the empty trailer and kicks the box before striding back to his room. He kicks his boots off into a corner and shucks his jeans off. The belt rattles as it hits the floor and Daryl climbs into his bed. He was tired even before the kid came over and thinking about the shit he _knows_ goes on in her home doesn't do him any good at all.

The light from the main room filters in just enough through the partially open door that Daryl can see everything in his room at a glance. He looks around and notes where everything is. Checks the shadows for anything new and scoots over until the light isn't falling into his eyes.

That Peletier is smacking his delicate looking wife around is a secret that's been oozing out of his perfect picket fence home for a while now. Slow but steady. Visible only to those who know what to look for until it oozed just enough for even the densest mother fucker to see. Daryl's started hearing about it more and more over the past few weeks though. Hearing rumors even though he gives the people who tell it to him his very best 'fuck off and die' look when they try to gossip over the cars he's fixing at the garage. Doesn't stop the dumb shits he works with anymore though. They just keep on nattering on about it like it's some grand late night TV show.

He's learned a whole lot about Ed and Carol that isn't much of a surprise to him. He's already learned most of what people are gabbing about from just watching the girl, and he still knows a great deal more about what's going on behind those closed doors. The details are new. Names of people who've been too stupid to know sticking their nose in the way they've done just isn't going to help, only make shit worse for Sophia and her mama.

It always used to piss him off. Those nosy little fuckers who'd cluck their tongues at his Ma. Tell her what she ought to do and meddle in their lives with no intention of sticking around when their interfering brought the anger of Pa down on them. They got to sit there all pretty and smug thinking they did something to help, and not seem to know or care that all they were doing was making it worse.

He'd _hated_ those people. Hated them even more when they kept on poking the beast until there was no other option left to them anymore. Until it came down to them or Pa, and Ma had decided she wanted to live more than she feared him. Not a single one of those fuckers stuck around after she took a shotgun out. They all just scattered to the wind and clucked their tongues, talking about how much of a shame it was she resorted to violence like that.

It's a pattern that he's seeing again now. Bunch of people talking big about the Peletiers and not a one willing to do anything to actually help. Just pushing shit along to the inevitable, and Daryl's pretty sure that this end isn't going to leave Ed missing a chunk of his head.

Daryl's seen Carol Peletier once or twice. Always in the shadow of her asshole of a husband. She's a stick thin slip of a ghost. Pale and already looking half dead. The woman looks like she'd break just trying to raise a gun let alone shoot one. His Ma hadn't looked like much back then, but there'd always been some steel buried deep in her that showed strong at times. Daryl doesn't see that steel in Carol.

Daryl rolls and punches his pillow into a ball before tucking it under his neck. He doesn't like thinking about this shit. Hates it, but he can't help it when the kid comes by. She don't talk about any of it when she's around, but Daryl's own damn mind puts words to the kid's life anyway. Builds the story up around her reactions and the rumors he's hearing, and the story is coming up to the main part now. The part where shit happens, and the only thing he's not sure of is what's going to happen to the little girl when it all goes down.

It's a thought he shouldn't be thinking but sticks with him long after he should be asleep.

**.**

.


	4. Chapter 4

**Keep Walking  
><strong>

**A Word**: Ibid.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Sophia jerks awake with a start that has her heart pounding in her chest, and it's not until she hears the loud voice coming from downstairs that she knows why. She sits up and listens hard even as she looks at the still dark window in panic. It's night still and he's home.

She doesn't hear Mom at all even though she has to be downstairs. She can tell from the way the shouting stays downstairs, the way she can hear things being thrown. Small things and large things. Maybe Mom, maybe him. Sophia can hear the slur in his voice that means he's drunk when the stairs start to creak and groan under his weight.

There's a shuffling slam as he hits the wall coming up and Sophia yanks the sheets back over her and goes very still. Counting the steps as he comes up them. She can hear Mom now. Her voice is quiet and strained like it gets when she's trying to make him change his mind. When she doesn't want him to do something.

Sophia curls her hand in the sheets and wants her doll. Wants the familiar weight of it to hold onto because Mom doesn't try to argue with him about anything but Sophia anymore and his voice is getting louder. Mean and loud and she can hear him say her name just as Mom starts getting louder.

"-asleep! Let's go to bed, Ed, please," Mom's begging now and she only does that when she's really scared. When things are going to get very, very bad, and that's usually the sign to Sophia needs to use her escape route. But her escape route is in the back yard and she doesn't have one from her room.

"Shut up!" There's a loud thud with no grunt of pain. "You're not, not keeping me away from m' girl you bitch!"

His voice drops and then Sophia can only hear the tone of it and a soft cry of pain from Mom. Sophia shakes a little and knows that once he's done there he's coming into her room next. He's going to come in angry and he's only going to get angrier.

She crawls out of her bed and quietly pulls open the closet door. She's big enough now that she can climb up to the top shelf by putting her arms and legs on opposite sides of the wall. Shuffling up like Carl showed her how to to at the playground. Mom has a bunch of boxes of her good dresses lined up on the shelf. Lined up like a neat little wall and there's just enough room behind them for her to fit in. She's used this space before to hide food and toys she wasn't supposed to have.

It's harder to get herself in there but she moves the bigger boxes to make a hole she can slide through, and puts them back when she's through. She's almost too big for the space when she lays down on her side. The wall presses hard on the top of her head and if he really looks he's going to see the boxes aren't lined up anymore. She holds her breath when the door crashes open and light floods into the room.

"What the fuck is this!?" There's a loud crash and the light starts to flicker as he starts cursing. Long and hard like he does when she knows he's really angry. "What'd I say 'bout keeping shit clean? What'd I say!?"

Sophia closes her eyes tight and shakes as he screams. The toys. She'd know they'd get her in trouble but she felt safer with them out. It made it easier to go to sleep with them out. Knowing they'd make enough noise to wake her. She thought is was okay if she cleaned them up every morning. That it'd be worth it when he got angry at her.

"Ed, please! Don't!"

"Where's that brat! Where's your fucking brat!"

It's not worth it. It isn't! Sophia bites her lip hard as something big goes crashing and Mom cries out again. The crashing doesn't stop and something hits the closet door nearly making her scream, but she bites her lip harder to stay quiet. Even as the door is ripped open and light floods into the closet.

He's going to look and he's going to see. Sophia bites her lip harder and blood fills her mouth. She can hear him louder now. Breathing hard as the hangers and clothes give way.

"Ed!"

"Where the fuck is she!" The door cracks and sounds like it breaks and now Sophia can hear Mom breathing too. High and fast just like her voice. "Where's my little girl you fucking whore!"

"L-Lori's!" Mom gasps out the lie and it's choked like he's got a hand around her throat. Something else he doesn't usually do because people notice bruises on the neck too. "She's spending the night. Ed, please! Just, just-"

The sound he makes is not human and Sophia shoves one fist against her mouth to press hard to keep the noises in. "I knew it, I fucking knew it! You whore, you're fucking around on me with that cop Grimes? Get back here you bitch!"

He crashes out of her room and Sophia hears a tiny sob make its way out of her as they go down the stairs. She can hear them both now and she shoves the boxes away enough to bring both hands up over her ears. Pressing hard so that all she can hear is the sound of her own heart beating hard. The sound of her breathing going ragged as she cries as quietly as she can. When the sounds get too loud, when Mom starts screaming Sophia starts to mumble. She starts to pray like Mom does, "Please, please, please, please."

She prays until the sounds are replaced by sirens, and does it even more voice that aren't familiar start calling her name.

**.**

.


	5. Chapter 5

**Keep Walking  
><strong>

**A Word**: Ibid.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Hello Carol," Rick says as he eases his way into the sterile room she's been sitting in for an hour now.

"How is she?" Carol asks immediately and watches as the man tries to meet her eyes. He flinches a little from the bruised side before firming his gaze. "Really, how is she? Please don't lie to me."

"She's fine," Rick says with a sigh as he palms off his hat and holds it by the brim. "She's scared and jumpy, but she's just fine. Crawled up inside the closet when-"

Rick trails off and a bit of weight leaves Carol. She feels like she can breathe now. Just a little. It's not as good as having her girl here in her arms, but Carol honestly doesn't want Sophia to see her just yet. Not until she can get cleaned up a bit more. The girl is going to be frightened as it is. She doesn't need to see her mother covered in blood.

"We've got Ed booked," Rick says and he leans against the examination table next to her as she looks down at the rough gauze covering her hands. Red is starting to seep through the patch job that someone did when the police first came into the house. The cuts from the knife she'd grabbed when Ed really lost it bleed freely even though they're shallow. Shallow on her and on Ed because she'd only grabbed a paring knife. A tiny, slippery paring knife. "Carol, I'm going to need your help with this. You know that right? If you don't," Carol looks up and Rick is struggling with frustration. Struggling to remain calm even though she'd done the exact opposite the last time he asked her to help him in this. "If you don't press charges he's going to get out, and when he gets out you know you and your little girl aren't safe."

"I know," Carol says with a faint smile. Rick and Lori are good parents, and their son is a good friend. It hasn't been a month since Ed first was arrested, but Rick's tried a few times to help her despite herself. It's almost funny how he expects her to turn his help down again. Like she hadn't made up her mind the second she realized Ed was going after Sophia. "Can you call Andrea for me?"

"Andrea?" Rick asks, cautiously hopeful but not betting on it.

"She said she knows a good attorney," Carol says, because she might have shut the door on the woman but she'd still been listening. "For divorce," she clarifies and raises her head to look at the man fully, "I'm not afraid of what he can do to me, not anymore, but I won't let him touch Sophia."

"Yeah, yeah I can do that for you," Rick smiles and there's relief in it. He reaches out to pat her knee gently and Carol forces herself to hold still for it. "Lemme drop her a line and then I'll get your statement down officially. Get that process started for you and make sure _he_ stays locked up for a bit, alright?"

"Thank you," Carol nods as Rick backs up to the door. It's open and a doctor is coming in with the nurse who'd taken her information earlier. Carol takes a deep breath and sits still for the examination she knows is going to be more thorough than any other she's been through before.

.

.

"You can meet him at five," Andrea says when she picks Carol up from the police department. Carols hands are lighter with a more professional bandaging job, and her throat is going hoarse from having to repeat herself so very many times. The first of many rounds she's been assured. "I've faxed all the information I could get over already so you can get started on filing emergency orders."

Carol doesn't care too much about that. It's important, yes, but Ed's in jail for at least a week and there are more important things to know. "Where's Sophia?"

Andrea goes silent and still for a second and Carol's gut twists up into a knot of dread before the woman starts backing out of the parking spot. "CPS has stepped in and taken custody of her for the moment. It's temporary," Andrea hastily assures her, "but they want to get the full story from her first before they decide who to release her to."

"There's no one to give her to but me," Carol says as the dread twists into cold fear. "Ed's in jail. He _can't_ take her!"

"Yes, exactly," Andrea tucks a few locks of messy blonde hair behind her ear as she looks over briefly. Rick probably woke her hours ago and it shows now, but Carol can't feel guilty over it. "He can't take her just yet, so remember that. Once the reports are all filed his custody suit will get blown out of the water."

"Custody?" Carol asks faintly. He never said it, but she always knew that if she ever did try anything. Tried to leave him for any reason he'd go straight for Sophia. Of course he'd get started immediately. Of course being behind bars isn't quite the protection that Carol had counted on it being. Carol brings her hands up and presses light against the bruising of her face. "How?"

"Ed got himself a lawyer, and that's the first thing he filed for," Andrea says grimly. "CPS won't consider it until they're sure that Sophia is alright though. So there's plenty of time to fight back. You don't have to worry about that. The evidence is stacked against him, and everything is in your favor, Carol. It's just going to take a little time."

"She's scared," Carol says because Rick had told her how they'd found her. Assuring her she was physically alright but not much else. Ed's going to try and get her and Carol can't let her find that out from a stranger. "When can I see her?"

"Tomorrow," Andrea reaches out fast and her fingers squeeze gently when Carol sucks in a sharp breath to argue. "That's the absolute soonest _anyone_ can see her, Carol. I promise you she will be safe where she's at right now until then. Alright?"

Carol doesn't say anything in response. Just nods stiffly because she wants Sophia with her right now, but there's an entire process to go through. A procedure to follow that will end this. That will make sure Sophia is finally safe, so Carol knots her hands together in her lap and keeps nodding.

.

.

The house is a mess but Carol beats back the urge to start straightening it out. Amy looks almost identical to Andrea, but there's a soft cant to her face that makes it hard for the young woman to hide her horror and pity as she carefully takes pictures of each and every bit of the damage. She's already taken pictures of Carol with her camera. Focusing on her face in a way the police hadn't.

"For your records," Andrea had said as she looked at the house more clinically. "Ed's lawyer will push out any court dates as long as he can so you can heal. So you don't look as bad as you do now. The pictures will be a good reminder for the court."

The destruction starts at the door, trails up into Sophia's room where it is the worst, and then comes back down to the kitchen. Dried blood still dots the floor in there and Carol looks at the smears of it soaked into the carpet leading into the room. Blood is hard to get out of the pristine white carpets Ed had insisted on. Carol knows because she's had to clean it out of the fibers all too often.

"Do you want to stay with us?" Amy asks. Pausing long enough to look at her in concern. "You don't have to stay here alone."

"Yes," Carol eventually says after biting back her first instinct to decline. She's not afraid of being here alone. Alone is the only time she's safe. She agrees though because Andrea knows what she's doing, and there's still a lot of questions and assurances she needs from the woman pacing in the front yard as she talks rapidly into her cell phone. "Thank you."

"It's no problem," Amy stands up to come over and hug her with one arm. Her hands light and careful on her. She's laughs when she steps back. "Uncle Dale would insist on coming over himself if you said no."

He would. Dale is that kind of man. The one who likes to watch people walk the neighborhood and talk to everyone. He always knows what's going on with everyone, and even gets involved when he feels like he has to. Like he tried with Ed before. Guilt alone would make him come over.

"Thank you," Carol says again and looks down at her shirt. It's stained with blood and Carol needs to get a few things before leaving the house. "I'm going to clean up."

"Sure! Grab anything you need for the night. I'm," Amy falters a little. Her smile wavering before coming back in full force. "I'm almost done here. We've got time to get some lunch before you go meet the lawyer Andrea has set up."

"Thank you," Carol says again before walking away. She goes up the stairs and steps over the whiskey bottle Ed had come home with. Mostly empty and probably soaked into his clothes from the way he smelled. Cheap alcohol and no trace at all of the even cheaper perfume she'd usually expect to smell on him. A fact that had frustrated him.

Carol had seen it in his eyes when he stumbled in, waking her up from her sleep on the couch. Carol doesn't know what happened that dragged him away from where ever it was he went when he said he was going to play poker. It hadn't gone well. Not in the least and Ed had come home beyond angry. He hadn't even known if he wanted to hit her or take her clothes off when he came in the door. Either would have been alright, but somehow he got Sophia into his alcohol soaked mind.

She pulls out and armful of clothing from the closet in Ed's room. One pass gets her half of her clothing with little trouble. There's a suitcase under the bed that she dumps them in. Even unfolded they fit with plenty of room left over for the rest that are in the bottom drawer of the dresser. Carol doesn't touch the top drawer. The clothes in there aren't really hers. They were props bought by Ed for Ed.

Carol folds everything up quickly to make room before taking the suitcase to Sophia's room. The toys are ruined, but that's fine. They're no more Sophia's than the top drawer was Carol's. The only toy her girl owned was the small doll she'd gotten as a gift from a friend and it never left her arms. Carol picks up the shirts and pants scattered on the floor. Checking them over for tears before packing them. She has to shift the dresser a bit to get into the drawers enough to get enough clothing to last a good while.

She smooths out a shirt before closing the suitcase. The gauze catches on the rough material a little and she smooths those out too. Pressing lightly down on them as the sight of her fingers and hands blur a little. The tears sting a little on her bruised side, but they don't hurt as much as they usually do.

**.**

.


	6. Chapter 6

**Keep Walking  
><strong>

**A Word**: Ibid.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Sophia is bundled up and taken away by a sharp faced woman with a kind smile. "Call me Ms. Jacqui, dear."

She's bundled up and taken from her home where there's police lining the streets and people looking out of their windows. There's a van with a TV sticker on the side and Sophia nearly cries when a man comes out with a camera. Ms. Jacqui takes her away from the road where the hospital and police station are. Takes her to where the buildings are big and bright, and not once does Ms. Jacqui say a word about Mom.

A gentle looking old man looks her over when they go inside. He's got a doctor's stethoscope around his neck but isn't like any doctor she's seen before. He's patient and doesn't mind when she answers all of his questions with nods or shakes of her head. Doesn't press when she can only shrug at some of his questions.

She's left alone after that in a room filled with toys she doesn't want to touch and her own thoughts. She wants her doll to hold onto right now. She wants her Mom!

Ms. Jacqui comes in eventually with a warm smile, some folders, a juice box, and a box of granola bars. "Hello again, Sophia. I brought you a little something to snack on while we talk a little more."

Sophia looks at the bars and juice but doesn't feel hungry enough to eat them. "I want my Mom."

"I know you do honey," Ms. Jacqui smiles at her and reaches over the table Sophia sat at to pat her arm gently. "I know but something bad happened at your home today and we need to hear what happened before we let you go. We need to be sure you'll be safe. You understand that, right?"

The folders have an emblem on them and some words, but her eyes catch on the abbreviation she can see on each and every one of them. CPS. Sophia saw the sign on the building, small and easy to miss, but it hadn't really hit her until now where she is. Ms. Jacqui and the doctor are CPS. The people Miriam Webb threatens to call at school every time she throws a tantrum. The people who took Todd Salvis away from his parents last year, and no one's ever seen him since even though his parents still live here.

"I want my Mommy," Sophia says again and more tears build up in her eyes. It felt like she'd cried them all out in her closet but she has more. Lots more. "Where's Mom?"

"She's alright. She's doing just fine," Ms. Jacqui says as she patiently sits down on the ground next to Sophia. One hand rubbing circles on her back that should be soothing but aren't. "She's talking to the police about your father right now. Do you think you could do that for me too, Sophia?"

Sophia doesn't answer. She puts her head down on the table and wraps her arms over her head, because Ms. Jacqui is lying! Mom isn't fine. Sophia was there. She heard it and she knows Mom isn't fine. That she wouldn't be talking to _anyone_ about him. Not after what Dale and Andrea did to make him so angry. She knows that news cameras don't come out unless it's something really bad. Sophia knows!

She keeps her head down and ignores all the words and questions Ms. Jacqui says after that.

.

.

Sophia's eventually taken to a small room with bunk beds to get some sleep. There's no one else there right now but after showing her the bathrooms Ms. Jacqui asks her, "You see that light down there?"

There's an open door at the end of the hall and Sophia nods obligingly.

"I'll be right in there if you need anything, alright?"

Sophia nods again as the woman smiles and leaves. Shutting the door behind her. Sophia's not stupid. She knows that the woman means she's going to be keeping an eye on her. They all are because that's what CPS does. They watch you and wait for you to make a mistake. To say something so they have an excuse to take you away.

She crawls into the bottom bed without taking her shoes off and pulls the sheets up. She's tired and still sniffly. Sleep will be hard but she knows she needs it. Needs it so she doesn't make any more mistakes.

Sophia used to daydream about this. Used to think, when it was really bad, that they'd take her away and she'd never hear him yell again. It used to be nice daydream until Todd Salvis. Until she realized they wouldn't just take her away from him, they'd also take her from Mom. She can't let them take her from Mom! She can't.

.

.

There's light coming in through the windows when Sophia wakes up. Through the light she sees what she saw in the bathroom. Bars. Bars to keep kids in and she looks at the windows with a frown before she slides off the bed.

The hall is empty but she can see Ms. Jacqui's door is still open. The light might be on but the sun is too bright to tell anymore. Sophia looks at it for a minute before walking down the hall a little bit before stopping. Her socks have slipped down while she was sleeping and it makes walking hurt so she sits down to tug them back into place.

She can hear voices and when she gets back up she makes sure she's walking very quietly. It's always best to know what people are talking about before they see you. Sophia's learned a lot about people that way.

"-emergency as you can understand," a man she's not heard before says. He sounds like Mr. Greer when the teacher gets started on geography. When one question pushes him into an hour long lecture that leaves everyone more confused than before he started.

She creeps closer and can see shadows moving on the ground. "My client is afraid for the well-being of the child, and considering the violence she was exposed to last night it's not an invalid concern."

"We understand and share those concerns," Ms. Jacqui cuts in before the man can keep going. There's not much warmth in her voice right now, she sounds like she's just saying things she's said a hundred times already. "Which is why we are working with Sophia to make sure we have a clear picture of the night's events."

Sophia stops just short of looking in the door. She doesn't need to see them to hear what they're saying, and they might stop if they accidentally see her hanging out there. They're talking about what happened, and there's no reason for them to lie right now.

"Of course," the man says patiently and she hears the rustling of paper being played with. "Mr. Peletier just wants to be sure his daughter will remain safe until he can come get her himself once this misunderstanding is cleared up."

Sophia stops breathing. Her heart starts beating fast and hard. Loud enough that she starts to back away from the door to avoid being heard, because there's no way they won't be able to hear it if she sticks around long enough.

Her dad is going to come get her.

That fact rings loud and clear through her mind. She keeps moving slowly and quietly away from the two adults until her back is pressing into the swinging door of the bathrooms where she can take in a gasping breath without being heard. Crouching down on the cold tiles she hugs her knees and tries to think. Tries to figure out what she's going to do now.

He's mad. He's mad at Sophia and he's mad at Mom. He's mad and he's going to _hurt_ her. If Sophia goes with him when he comes she knows. She knows it will be _bad_, that last night was just the start of how bad things are going to be now. He can't take her, she can't let him take her. Not until she finds Mom, finds out what happened to her for real.

Sophia has to escape.

The goal makes it easy for her to breathe, slowing her heart some as she stands up and looks around. The hallway is still empty, but there's no lock on the bathroom door. Sophia hopes no one comes down to check on her then. There's a metal trash can that's waist high next to the door. It's not heavy, but she's careful picking it up so that when she drags it to the only window it doesn't make any noise.

The lid is hard plastic that gives under her weight a little for one heart stopping second. The whole thing shifts when she stands up fully, but not enough to make her fall as she opens the window. There's a screen in place and it's painted in on the edges so yanking at the little rods doesn't move it at all. One corner is bent outward and there's a cigarette butt and a bunch of ashes smeared on the ledge beyond it. Sophia grabs the screen by that edge and starts yanking. Left the right, and back to left because that way is easiest. The screen gives inch by inch with each tug. Tearing away with a sound like shredding paper until she can push the thing aside and crawl up onto the ledge.

The bars are screwed into the brick wall and don't look like they'll move at all no matter what she does. From the ledge she can see the bars don't go around all the way though. There's a gap between the cage and the wall. A small one but bigger than the gaps between the bars, and it looks just as big as her escape route in the fence.

Sophia wriggles and sucks in her stomach as she pushes herself into that gap head first. Halfway through she looks down at the ground. It's a lot farther away out here than inside and she grabs for something to hold onto to keep her from falling. The bars are cold but she holds on tight with her hands as she pushes with her feet until the biggest part of her body is through.

She flips as she slides all the way out of the gap. Hanging onto the bars for a minute as she looks down again at the ground. It's not any farther away than the ground is when she plays on the monkey bars. The only difference is that the ground here is concrete and not sand.

Letting go is easy then, and she skids a little when she lands. Her long pajamas rip a little but keep her from skinning her knees even as the heel of her left hand isn't so lucky. Sophia hisses as she looks at the torn skin and quickly brushes off the dirt and small pebbles sticking to it. A few drops of blood well up from the deepest scratches, but Sophia just presses her hand to her side before getting up.

She's on an empty street behind the building but can hear cars going from around the corner. Turning away from the sounds Sophia starts to walk immediately. She needs to get away quick before they know she's gone, and she needs to get out of sight fast before anyone stops to ask her why she's running around in her pajamas.

Sophia has never walked this far into the city by herself, but she still knows where she is. Has an idea of where she can walk to get away. The shortcuts she takes don't always work, but sneaking through people's back yards and cutting through parking lots gets her to more familiar places fast. The further she gets away the easier it is for her to start thinking, and the more certain she gets about where she's going.

Home is not an option. He'll be there and Sophia doesn't want to see him ever again. She can't go to her friends because their parents won't understand. They'll take her home and right to him. She can't trust going to anyone else she usually goes to when she needs to stay away for the same reason.

There's just one person she can think of who won't do that, and she changes her path slightly to go there.

**.**

.


End file.
